The clock ticked, a slow, rhythmic beat. The rain lashed against the windowpane, a relentless fury. A single candle flickered on the table, casting long shadows on the walls. Inspector Davies sat in a worn armchair, his gaze fixed on the body sprawled across the rug. The victim was a man, young, handsome, and lifeless. There was a single bullet wound in his chest, a gaping hole in his life. Davies reached for his notebook, the familiar leather cool against his hand. He had seen death before, but this one felt different, raw, unsettling. He knew he had a puzzle to solve, a life to avenge.